24: Coming closer
by cali-chan
Summary: The Girardi family comes closer. Adam and Joan come closer. In the end, there's always someone coming a little closer. J&A, postrecreation.


see bottom for disclaimer, soundtrack and (very) random author's notes. -cali.   
  
  
  
  


On a Friday evening, Joan, Adam and Grace were walking down the school hallways heading for the exit, after their last class of the week. Adam and Joan were, pretty much unconsciously, holding hands, while Grace just walked normally, pretending she didn't see it. After the emotional rollercoaster they'd been on lately, what with Joan destroying Adam's sculpture, the fight between them, the whole thing with Ramsey, the science fair and finally the party last weekend (not to mention all the family issues, like Joan's dad almost getting killed), things had deflated back to normal and they had fallen into a more comfortable state of friendship than before (not that Grace would ever admit it). So, it was not unusual to see such a picture. 

They were halfway down the way to Joan's locker, when Elyse and Sophie, the two girls who used to be friends with her, approached them. 

"Joan. So the rumor is true? You're going out with Rove?" asked Sophie, not very nicely. 

"I thought you were, like, looking up," Elyse said, not nicely at all. "I mean, after Ramsey, one would think you'd learn..." 

Grace looked at both of the girls like they were small, disgusting bugs. Rolling her eyes, she stated: "I won't even waste my breath on you two." After saying that, she started to walk again. "I'll be at my locker, so you know." 

After watching Grace's retreating back for a minute, Adam and Joan turned to the two girls. Adam looked like he wasn't going to say much (space boy at his best), but Joan looked ready to kill them. How dare they? They didn't even know Adam... 

"First of all," she started, "both Adam and Grace are so above you two." One of the girls looked surprised. The other looked just angry. "And second," she continued, "Adam and I are just friends. Not that it's any of your business anyway. Come on, Adam, let's catch up with Grace." Pulling Adam by his hand, they continued walking down the way, leaving the two girls behind them, openmouthed. 

"Cha, thanks for that, Jane," Adam said, smiling a little. "Not that what they say matters much," he shrugged. 

"They should just keep their mouths shut and leave oxygen for those who really need it," Joan replied, still a little pissed. 

While they were walking, Joan noticed that people were looking at them weirdly. When they passed by, some would turn to whoever was with them and mutter something. She even thought she heard a hushed: "didn't know you had it in you, Rove." Joan was getting antsy. She wished she could be more like Adam and Grace and just ignore whatever it was that everyone was murmuring, but she just couldn't be like that, she couldn't just let it slip off like that, especially when people were being so non-discrete. She was about to turn around and yell something to everyone in the hallway (as was becoming a custom of hers), when she noticed Grace was standing right in front of them, arms crossed. 

"I do hope you sent them back to the 'N-sync and Barbie dolls universe they originally come from," she said, and Joan wasn't sure if she was mad or amused. 

Before Joan could say anything, some guy bumped into her and Adam, pushing them both out of the way so he could pass between them, barely avoiding hitting Grace too. They were so rudely treated, of course they were annoyed, but before Adam even had a chance to say "dude", Mr. Price appeared behind them, apparently following the boy. Both were in quite a rush, but that didn't stop him from telling them to "refrain from public displays of affection while on school grounds," which brought Joan back to her original topic. 

"What IS it with people today?" Joan asked, throwing both her arms into the air. Grace rolled her eyes and Adam smiled slightly. "I mean, just yesterday I was but a mere sub-defective," she continued. "And now, suddenly everybody's dying to know AND talk about my love life, or lack thereof. Is the planet spinning backwards or what?" 

"I'd say it is," Grace replied. "In a normal world people would have more important things to do." 

"Who was that guy, anyways?" she asked Grace (since she wouldn't trust Adam with a name), now curious. "And why was Mr. Price trailing him like that?" 

"You just LOVE butting into other people's business, don't you?" she fired back at her, giving her a hard look. "One: Greg Brooks. Two: don't know, don't care." And, throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she walked away, without even a wave. 

Joan turned to Adam with a sigh. "Hey, I'll see you later, or maybe tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go home and... I don't know. Have some ice cream." 

Adam snorted. She was so funny. "Sure. See ya, Jane." 

She smiled at him and left through the same path Grace had.   
  
  
  
  


**Coming closer**

**A Joan of Arcadia fanfic**   
**by carla (aka cali-chan)**   
  
  
  
  


When Joan got to her car, she put her stuff on the backseat and was just opening the driver's side door when she felt something hit her on the head. With a light "ouch" she looked down and saw that it was a little plastic dart. Sort of like the ones that would be used with a toy gun. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard raucous, high-pitched laughter coming from behind her. Rolling her eyes she turned to the little boy, who couldn't be more than five, with a murderous glare. 

"Oh, so you think that's funny, eh? Kids these days have no respect for their elders..." 

"Sorry, Joan," the kid said, calming down from his outburst. "For a moment there, you sounded like you're sixteen hundred years old instead of just sixteen," he finished, with a cute grin. 

Joan blinked, finally recognizing who he was. "So God likes pulling pranks on people. Should've guessed, really." 

"Just relaxing a little." He moved to pull on Joan's... shirt, really, because he couldn't reach her shoulder without being somewhat uncomfortable. "All work and no fun makes me a very dull deity." 

"Yes, yes, I know," Joan cut him off, without thinking about what other people would say if they knew she interrupted God's phrases on a daily basis. "I really want to go home, so let's cut to the chase: What do I have to do this time?" 

"You never HAVE to do anything," he insisted, still pulling on her shirt. Joan was beginning to feel like a very annoying mosquito was invading her, but quickly pushed that thought down. 

"Ok... what are you SUGGESTING I do this time?" she asked him, with a deep sigh. "And would you PLEASE stop doing that?" 

"Nope," he said, shaking his head so much that Joan wondered if God could get a headache. "I want you to talk to your mother." 

"I talk to her every single day," she replied, trying to move so he'd let her shirt go. It was almost like having a little brother again. Only Luke had never been as hyper as LittleBoy!God seemed to be. "Why? Is there something wrong with her?" 

"Remember, you don't ask questions," he told her, smiling. "And no, I don't mean that kind of 'talking'. I mean a real conversation. Heart to heart." 

"I already talked to her once, when you told me to have a garage sale. Remember? Of course you do. And it was very deep, very heart wrenching, and very uncomfortable. I think I've filled up this year's required quota." 

"Joan..." 

"No, really. I mean, you created teenagers. You should know I'm not about to go and have a discussion about my secrets and desires with my MOTHER of all people." She was beginning to wonder if pushing AnnoyingBrat!God off of her was reason enough to get a no-return ticket to Hell. 

He finally let her shirt go and looked up at her. Joan got uncomfortable. He was giving her the big-blue-eyes-puppy-dog-look and it was unnerving. Not that it had any effect on her... 

Of course he knew when he had won her over. With a boyish grin, he blurted out: "Tell her what's going on with you and Adam. That'll be good." 

Joan started ranting even before he finished speaking. "Oh, no, not that... Every time I start talking about anything remotely relationship-like in front of Mom, she gets this really freaky grin that annoys me to no end..." 

He shrugged, and, picking up his little dart, continued: "By the way, you have to stop by the market. There's no ice cream at your place." After giving her his trademark wave, he ran off. 

Joan frowned. "A big load of nothing is what's going on between Adam and me. This is just great." 

She got into the car and quickly pulled out of the parking lot.   
  
  
  
  


Half an hour later, Grace Polk was still hanging around the school. She wasn't doing anything, just listening to some music and sitting in a corner, looking at the few people who passed by. She didn't particularly feel like going home, and she couldn't think of anywhere else to go, so she just waited there. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, willing time to move quickly. She was so focused that she didn't even hear the person approaching her. 

"Polk? That you?" 

She opened one eye and saw the person. "Brooks. 'S been a long time. Now leave me alone." 

The guy, Greg Brooks, smirked. "Polite as always." He was tall, pale and skinny, with big eyes and huge bags under them, and very pointed facial features. His hands were shaking a lot. At first glance, one would think he was sick or malnourished, but it was hard to believe that after one noticed his clothes; they were actually very expensive. "Hey!" He took her earphones off her head, and grabbed her wrist before she could even clench her fist. "I've got something I know you'd like." 

Grace glared at where his hand held her wrist and then at him. "I've told you like a million times: I don't want any of that shit anymore." Wrenching her hand out of his grasp, she spoke very close to him. "I didn't 'like it' that one time. Look, you can go do whatever you want to do to yourself, just leave me the hell alone." She grabbed her bag and walked away, deciding that even home was better than the current situation. 

Whatever confidence Greg Brooks seemed to have when he confronted Grace left him that same minute. His hands started shaking drastically and he kept looking around, wide-eyed, as if to see if there was anyone around. He nervously scratched his neck and then he took off on a run in the opposite direction. 

Unbeknownst to both of them, Luke Girardi, who had stayed after classes for the science club, and had just called his brother Kevin to ask him to pick him up, heard the whole conversation. And of course, human being that he was, he misinterpreted it completely.   
  
  
  
  


In Arcadia Sheriff's department, Will Girardi was leaning against a desk, quietly reading a report a colleague of his had given him. Surprisingly enough, the last few days had been very uneventful around the department. After the blowup of the meth lab, there had been no strange murders, no stakeout operations, and, happily, no political corruption of any kind. At least, not that he knew of. It seemed that law enforcement in Arcadia had become somewhat efficient, after all. 

As much as he hated thinking this, it was pretty boring. 

Lt. Williams came up to him with a smile, as if reading his mind. "Bored out of your mind, right?" 

"Pretty much," he answered. "Do we have anything new?" 

"I think you'll like this, boss," she brought out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "There have been several reports of a drug dealer around the premises of Arcadia High School." 

"And you're just telling me this now?" said Will as he grabbed the paper. 

"Parents are freaking out." 

"Of course they're freaking out. They're parents. That's what we do," he replied, focusing on the written words. "He's a teenager?" 

"Seems so. We don't have a description of him except that he always wears jeans and covers his face," she explained. 

"Sounds like an amateur if he's doing this out in the open," he said, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. "I think we should check it out right now." 

"You think it's that serious?" she asked, crossing her arms. 

"My kids go to Arcadia High. I have every right to be freaking out," he countered, on his way out. "Go tell the undersheriff." 

"So, the hurry has nothing to do with the fact that we have nothing better to do," she told herself, on her way to do as he told her.   
  
  
  


That night, after Joan was done with her homework (which was more like two hours of listening to Pink and playing with her pencil), she decided to go and knock on her parent's room's door. Her mother's voice told her to come in, and she cautiously did. Helen Girardi was sitting in her bed, reading a book. 

"Mom? Shouldn't you be making dinner?" Joan asked, standing in front of her. 

"Oh, Kevin called. Said he was craving pizza, his treat. So I figured I'd rest for a while before he got here and chaos started," Helen said, smiling. She marked the page she was reading and put the book down on the bed. "What is it?" 

"Um, it's like this," Joan said, quickly sitting on the edge of the bed. She could feel herself getting pale. "Mom, uh... have you ever had a friend that's... more than a friend?" 

Helen grinned, and Joan groaned. "Oh, no, there it is," she said, in a despaired tone. She stood up quicker than if a snake had bitten her. "Look, just forget I said anything, I'm going to..." 

Helen stopped her. "I'm sorry, honey," she said. She sounded surprised. "I'm just excited that you want to talk about this with me. Normally you avoid these conversations." 

"Yeah, well," Joan fidgeted, "something sorta... told me to speak with you. Call it divine intervention." 

Helen laughed. "Ok, if you say so. Now, come here. I promise I won't embarrass you anymore." 

Joan sat down again, albeit a little reluctantly. "So... have you?" 

"Had a friend like that?" Helen looked down, as if remembering. "Yes. Oh, we were so close..." she murmured, her voice filled with melancholy. 

"Did you move past the friendship line?" Joan asked, now really curious. 

"Yes," Helen smiled at her daughter's expression. "We dated for quite some time, and it was wonderful. He was wonderful." 

"Wasn't it awkward?" 

"At the beginning, yes," Helen admitted. "It was weird, having the 'couple' title hanging over our heads. It was much easier when we were simply ourselves. After our first date it seemed like we had something to prove to the world." 

"Did it get better?" Joan asked, now so immersed in the reminiscence that she was almost dreading the answer. 

"Why, yes. You see, after some time we figured out that what was important was not the title, just what we felt," she affirmed, her eyes glinting. She grabbed her book and stood up to leave it on the dresser, all the while looking at her daughter from the corner of her eye. "Besides, the title had certain privileges. With it, people couldn't really say anything if they caught you--" 

"Too much information!" Joan cut her off, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes, as if such an action could stop her from seeing the mental picture. "Mo-om! You promised!" 

"I know! I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," Helen laughed, throwing her hands into the air in the universal 'surrender' sign. She sat down on the bed again as Joan lowered her hands. 

"What happened to him? Do you still talk to him?", she asked, hands on her lap. 

Helen pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, supporting her head on her knees. "Sure. He's married. He has three kids, and he recently moved to Arcadia because he was offered a position as chief of police." 

Joan rolled her eyes as understanding downed upon her. "Mom, that's so corny." 

Helen chuckled. "Yes, I know." She looked at her daughter, wondering just what she was thinking. "This whole conversation is about Adam," she stated, more than asked. "I thought you and him were doing better," she wondered aloud. 

"We are," Joan sighed. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. "It's just that..." she couldn't explain it so easily. "I mean... I know he likes me. And after all that's happened, after our fight and everything... I think... I know I care about him. He's important to me." 

Joan looked up at her mother, who gazed back at her with pride and understanding. "Go on," Helen said. 

Joan gulped, but continued. "I just-- I don't-- I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. With Adam." 

"Weren't you always complaining that you wanted a boyfriend?" Helen crossed her legs and supported her head on one elbow. "How come now you're not ready?" 

Joan leaned down to lay on the bed, throwing one arm over her forehead. "I screwed up so many times with him when we were only friends, and it was so hard for us to become... normal again. What if we do get together, and I mess up somewhere and we can't go back to the way we were? I don't want to hurt him anymore, Mom." 

She turned over to one side. "And yet... I can't help but feel this way. Wanting to know what it feels to be with him. I mean, he's a great friend. So, wouldn't he also be a great boyfriend?" 

"I think he would," Helen said, smiling. 

Joan snorted. "Of course you'd think so. You love him more than you love me." 

"Not true," she corrected, laughingly. "I just like him a lot." 

"So..." Joan started, sighing. "Mom... Am I being hypocritical?" 

Helen leaned down to stroke her daughter's long hair. "Of course not, dear," she said softly. "You're just confused. That's ok. It's normal to be scared." 

"So, what do I do?" 

Now Helen sighed, trying to figure out what would be the best advice to give to her daughter. "I don't... think you have to do anything," she decided on. 

Joan frowned. "Mom. I think you know that's NOT what I wanted to hear." 

Her mother laughed. "I know. But think about it: It's like I told you... what matters is what you two feel. Not the title. So, in essence, you already know what it feels like, because you're really living it." 

Joan sat up. "I think I get what you're saying." 

"The title can wait," Helen continued. "I know you're a teenager and you probably won't believe me when I say this, but... you have your whole life ahead of you. If you're not ready now, just wait until you are. And sometimes, if things are meant to be, they just fall into place. With a little time." 

"So…" Joan tried to come up with a conclusion. "You're telling me that I should just leave things the way they are, and if something happens then... that's it?" 

"Yes, pretty much," Helen nodded. "And if you want to be with him, just spend as much time as you can with him. No obligations. Nothing to prove." 

Joan thought it over. It sounded good to her. "Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks, Mom. Wow, who would've thought something good would come out of this conversation?" 

Helen rolled her eyes. "Yes, who would've thought?" Joan stood up and walked to the door, but Helen stopped her before she could go out. "Can I ask you a question, Joan?" 

The girl turned around. "Sure." 

"Why ARE you so scared? What makes you think you'll keep messing up? I mean, does everything you do have to be bad?" 

Sarcastic!Joan was back in a second. "Let's just say... there must be someone out there who wants to make my life as complicated as possible." With a shrug, she walked out of the room. She must have been going down the stairs when Helen heard her yell: "Mom! Pizza's here!"   
  
  
  
  


The next day, Adam, Joan and Grace were hanging on Adam's front yard, in between some of his sculptures. The weather was still a little chilly, but that day was sunny enough that they were able to be outside without being uncomfortable. Grace was laying on the ground, trying to look up at the sun but contradicting herself by covering her face with her hand to stop the luminous rays. Adam was picking grass leaves off the earth and examining them thoroughly. Joan had her gaze lost somewhere near infinity one second, and the next she looked like she wanted to bang her head against something very heavy, very badly. The scene would definitely be a real treasure for sociologists specializing on Generation X that happened to pass by. 

"I just KNEW that having a serious conversation with my mother would create some sort of disaster," Joan whined, covering her face with her hands. 

"Get over it," Grace replied, grabbing the leaf Adam was currently holding and throwing it at Joan. "Bottom line: never tell your parents stuff ever again." 

"Easy for you to say!" Joan exclaimed, combing her hair with her hands to get rid of the leaf, which was stuck on it. "Your dad doesn't work at our school! It's not like I can hide anything from her anyway." 

"What did you tell her?" Adam asked, not knowing why they were making such a fuss. They should both just appreciate what they have, he thought. 

Joan blushed a little and tried to cover it up. "That's not really important." 

"Wo-ho!" Grace exclaimed, laughing. "She avoided the question completely! That means they were talking about you, Rove." 

Adam shrugged. "You shouldn't talk about your mom that way, Jane. She's a nice woman, yo." 

"The POINT is..." Joan sighed, gesturing with her arms, "...now she had the BRILLIANT idea to invite Adam and HIS DAD to the Girardi's Monthly Thanksgiving Dinner! And nothing I can say or do will make her change her mind. Do you know what a disaster that will be?" 

"Maybe it'll be fun," Adam tried to calm her down. 

"What is this Dinner thing anyways?" Grace asked, sitting up. 

"Just something weird my mom came up with," explained Joan with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Basically we all get together for dinner to give thanks to God for all the things we have achieved this month and for all the wonders he's given us and all that stuff... Says it brings us closer to God." She rolled her eyes, looking at the sky. "As if I didn't have enough of HIM already..." she muttered to herself. "So Mom spends all day cleaning the house while Dad takes us on a gourmet trip to Italy. Mom says it used to be a tradition in her family, but we all know she made it up last month. I don't know why she has us do this, I mean, it's not like we don't eat dinner together every single day..." 

She turned to Adam sharply. "And NO, it will NOT be fun. I'll tell you what will happen: Luke will be talking rocket science gibberish the whole time, while everyone does their best to ignore him. Kevin will be sulking in a corner about something or other. Mom will be making awkward small talk with your dad and MY dad will interrogate YOU," she pointed at his chest with her index finger, "until he makes you want him to shoot you to put you out of your misery." 

Grace frowned. "Did that last sentence make any sense?" she wondered aloud, wondering if Joan had any air left in her lungs after talking so fast. 

"Cha," Adam said, blinking. "Pasta is pasta, Jane." 

"Wow, guys. Thank you SO much for the moral support," Joan said, burying her face on her knees. 

"Hey, chill," Grace told her. "It's not our fault you have such a weird family." 

"Says the daughter of the Rabbi, who doesn't even share his last name." Joan's words were muffled, but they understood them anyway. 

"Touché," said Adam, and they all continued with their non-activity for a few more minutes. That was, until a familiar dark-purple-haired guy walked by the street. Seeing him standing there like waiting for something, Joan excused herself and ran off to talk to him, leaving two confused friends sitting on the grass. 

"Another of her weird things?" Grace asked, not sure if she could ever have imagined Joan being friends with a Goth. 

"Dude," was Adam's simple reply, his mind more focused on what was going on across the street than on Grace's question. 

A few feet away, Joan stopped in front of Goth!God, who was calmly playing with the chain on his pants while he waited, crossed her arms and glared at him. "I did as you said, I talked to Mom about Adam. But of course you know that." 

"Yes, I know," he said, finally putting his chain in his pocket, followed by his hand. "And it's great that you did it without me having to come back and bug you about it." 

"Glad to be of service," she answered him, sarcastically. "And now she planned a family dinner in which she will surely embarrass me in front of Adam and his dad. Do you have another mission? What else do you want me to do, tell them every anecdote behind my baby pictures, which most the town has already seen, by the way, because of another assignment you gave me? Can't I just give you my 'thanks' now and lock myself in the bathroom for the rest of the night?" 

"If you do that, your mom would surely tell anecdotes," he answered, straightforwardly. "Believe it or not, this time I only want for you to have a good time." 

Joan regarded him doubtfully, with one arched eyebrow. "What's the catch?" 

He arched both eyebrows. "No catch." 

She shook her head, definitely not believing him. "I'm wondering what the whole point of my conversation with Mom was. And this dinner. Even if I know you won't tell me anyhow." 

"Well, she did give you good advice. Don't you feel more comfortable talking about your things with her now?" he asked, putting his other hand in his unoccupied pocket. 

"Not if she embarrasses me afterwards, like with this Thanksgiving thing," she said, looking down at the pavement below her feet. "So, you're telling me the only reason for the whole thing was so that I'd be closer to Mom?" she asked him, looking up again. 

He shrugged. "What do you think?" he shot back. 

"I do NOT think so," she answered, not even thinking before she spoke. "No, there's always a hidden meaning behind the tasks you have me do." 

God gave her that "you don't get what's right in front of you" glance he often gave her. "You don't think coming closer to your mother is important?" At her shrug, the glance changed slightly into a more sympathetic one. Like the one teachers would give to their students when they didn't understand something they thought was easy. "Coming closer is a very important thing, Joan. It is a state imperfect beings like men and women are constantly in. Trying to get to perfection, which you never can get to, because then you'd cease being human." 

Joan looked as confused with this as she'd be if he were Einstein was explaining the dual nature of light. God continued, never missing a beat. "In this very moment, there is someone somewhere who's coming closer to a friend. There's someone coming closer to an enemy. There's someone coming closer to reaching a goal. And somewhere, there's someone coming closer to breakdown. There are so many things a person can be closer to, Joan, and I don't mean only your mother." 

"Like... Adam? Maybe?" she asked, trying to process everything he had told her. But he didn't answer her. She sighed. "You're being cryptic again. It was much easier when I didn't ask your reasons. 'Get a job', 'build a boat', 'throw a party', 'talk to your Mom'. I should've learned a long time ago to just keep my mouth shut." 

"I'm being direct," God replied, after she was done ranting. "I gave you your task: Just have a good time." With that, waving, he continued his way down the road. 

Joan went back to her friends, more confused than before. Adam didn't ask her anything, just looked at her with that "you're breaking my heart" look that always made her feel guilty. Grace, on the other hand, told her point-blank that she would laugh her head off if Joan were to join some sort of we're-the-spawn-of-darkness-and-we-adore-Marilyn-Manson cult. Joan just sighed and ignored all the comments.   
  
  
  
  


"You mean that you haven't seen or heard anything strange?" Will asked his wife as he collected some tomatoes and gave them to her. Will didn't have to be present at the department on a Saturday, so he had decided to accompany his wife to the supermarket when she went to stock up for Thanksgiving dinner. And also, that way he could be sure she wouldn't get the wrong ingredients and unconsciously offend his ancestors while trying to be on God's good side. 

"Well, it is a hard question, honey," Helen sighed, normally grabbing whatever Will had on his hands to check if the price was reasonable. Her husband was normally a practical man, but when it came to Italian food, price was but a nuisance: he had to have the very best there was, no matter how much it cost. "I see dozens of kids in the office everyday, and they all have problems, but I don't think I could point at one and state he or she is dealing with drugs. I don't think that's fair." 

"Well, Mr. Price had no problem with that," Will replied, pushing their cart into the next aisle, his wife trailing behind him. "He gave us a very extensive list of people who, according to him, HAD to be into drugs somehow." 

"I wouldn't trust his judgement if I were you," Helen told him, moving some groceries around on the cart so they could fit the meat and the parmesan cheese in. "After all, he said the same thing about Adam Rove, and we know it's not true." 

"If I recall correctly, Adam is on the extensive list," Will chuckled. "Though I couldn't tell you if he was number one or not. Grace was too, I think." 

Helen chuckled too. "Well, it's a wonder he didn't put Joan on it by association." 

The conversation ceased then, and they continued picking stuff out, discussing about one or other ingredient every now and then. They were heading down to pay for the food, when Will brought it up again. "Do you know anything about a boy called Greg Brooks?" 

"Greg Brooks..." Helen muttered, trying to recall the boy's face. At least, she remembered it. "Oh, yes, I know him. Why?" 

"Price was very emphatic when he told us he was sure the kid was in some sort of trouble. Mentioned his attitude was changing lately," Will explained. 

"Well, that's true," Helen said, crossing her arms as the line slowed down again. "From what I hear, he used to be an ok student, not great, but not bad either. From a few months to now, both his grades and his assistance record have dropped, and he's been known to cause trouble in class every few days." 

"Do you think it could be related to our case?" he asked. Helen normally had very good judgment, and he hoped she could help him with this. 

"Mr. Price doesn't know if it's good to relate it with drugs," she admitted, frowning. She hadn't interacted much with the boy, but it always hurt to see a kid waste his life like that. "His family is wealthy and he's never had problems of that kind. Personally, I think he just needs attention." 

"Attention?" 

"Well, I'm telling you this as I see it. Greg's been absent a lot of times in the last few months. When we've called his house, his parents are never there. Seems like they go on a lot of business trips," she sighed. How could there be parents like that? "Seems like money can't buy family love. What are you going to do? Interrogate students?" 

"Price doesn't seem too convinced of that," Will said, as the cashier told him the amount to pay. He brought out his wallet and counted the money. "We could get a warrant and go in anyway, but given the nature of the institution, it would be better if we could convince him to give us his permission." 

"Parents will freak out," Helen told him, already picking up some grocery bags. 

"Have you been talking to Toni?" Will asked, laughingly. "Yes, that's right. Until then, we can only hope whoever it is will make a mistake that will give us some sort of hint about his or her identity." 

"We can only hope," Helen repeated, as they walked out of the market, Will following behind her to the car.   
  
  
  
  


He hadn't gone to classes that Friday, but he knew the police was trailing him. It wasn't hard to know in a small town like Arcadia. 

He couldn't let them catch him. He had just sold enough to get his part, and he needed it. They weren't going to stop him. They weren't going take it from him. He was going to relieve his need, he couldn't go on like this. He had to think of something. He had to hide it. Put it in a place where he could keep it until that night, when he would use it. But where? It had to be somewhere safe... somplace where, if it were found, the blame would go to someone else. Somplace where the police wouldn't think of it being a set up. Someplace where he could get it back easily, without being seen. 

"Good thing I took the day shift today, Rambo. Not only does it leave me the evening off for dinner at the Girardi's, it also allows me to get a decent amount of rest for the next week." 

When he heard the voice, he turned around on the tree he was resting against, to look at the main gate of the impound. Normally there wouldn't be people around at that hour. During the weekend, it was only open until midday. Maybe a security guard, but lately they had stopped that practice, leaving only a dog to care for the place. The man who was talking to the huge Rottweiler had to be the janitor, already leaving. 

He knew that man. Carl Rove. 

It was perfect. 

When Mr. Rove came out again, after leaving the dog in the back, he found a small briefcase, tightly closed with two secret combinations and a lock, just two steps away from the main gates. It had no name, no adress, no telephone number to contact the owner. Shrugging, he figured that someone had left it there and would come back to get it. As he had already closed the building, he decided it was better to take it home and bring it back on Monday. After all, it was getting late and he had to go change his clothes and pick Adam up.   
  
  
  
  


While the parents were out, the Girardi children were in charge of fixing the house up for the family dinner. Kevin was in charge of fixing up the living room while Joan and Luke put everything together in the kitchen/dining room. Normally they wouldn't make such a fuss, but this time they had guests and both Helen and Joan wanted everything to be just perfect. 

"I insist that you should've invited Grace, you know," Luke mentioned, for the three hundred eighty seventh time. He'd been making those snide remarks ever since he found out Adam and his dad were having dinner with them. "She'll be mad to know she wasn't even taken into account." 

"It's not like she doesn't know," Joan replied with the same phrase she'd already used three hundred and eighty seven times. Making sure the tablecloth was on straight, she rounded the table to look for decent napkins. "And besides, if you want to, go ahead and ask her. I'm pretty sure she'll wind up having something against family dinners. Either that, or she hates pesto." 

Luke had to admit she was probably right. "Seems to me that you know Grace pretty well," he stated, stopping, still holding two glasses in his hands, to look at Joan. 

"If you say so, little brother," Joan said back, shrugging. "As much as she'll let me know, anyway." 

"Hey, do you know if she... uh..." Luke put the glasses down on the table because he felt the need to gesture. "Has she, errrr... do you think she's had a boyfriend before?" 

Joan snorted, folding the napkins in what she hoped was an acceptable shape. "I think that would defeat the whole purpose of people saying she's a lesbian." She put the folded napkins on the table and grabbed some more to fold. With one arched eyebrow she looked at her brother. "And I'm not sure the role is up for you to take it yet." 

"That's not it," Luke interjected, passing both hands through his hair as in desperation. "It's just that... I-- accidentally overheard her talking to some guy and I was wondering if... do you think she's had..." Luke found himself unable to finish the sentence. Complex equations and physics laws were one thing, but just imagining Grace doing... it was too much for his brain to handle. 

Joan noticed the color rising up her brother's cheeks. "Oh. My. God," she muttered, momentarily forgetting about napkins and dinner. She looked at Luke like he'd just told her he used his computer to hack into the government and rob Fort Knox. "Are you asking me-- if Grace is still a virgin?" 

"Well, I wasn't going to be that blunt," he cringed. 

"Of course I don't know!" Joan screeched, walking up to him. "She doesn't exactly make that kind of stuff public. And even if she did, it's not our problem." She frowned, crossing her arms. Suddenly her expression changed into a curious one. "Where did you get that idea from?" 

Luke, almost literally backed up against the wall by his sister, had no choice but to tell her everything.   
  
  
  
  


When the doorbell rang, Helen went to open it. Of course, there stood a smiling Carl Rove and a slightly spaced-out Adam. They weren't dressed at their very best, but it was enough for a simple dinner. "Good evening, Mrs. Girardi." 

"Good evening to both of you," she replied with a bright smile. "Please come in. And you can call me Helen, Mr. Rove." 

"Then you can call me Carl," he told her back, lightly pushing his son inside. "I hope we're not intruding." 

"Not at all, I invited you," she laughed, closing the door behind her. "Adam sure looks hungry," she added, amused, seeing that Adam hadn't even said hello. Poor boy must be nervous, she thought. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for a while, since our chefs are still working on our mouth-watering feast. Oh, and of course, Joan doesn't know what to wear yet." 

"I HEARD that, Mother!" Joan exclaimed, running down the stairs. The sound seemed to bring Adam back to earth. Both parents smiled at this as Joan stepped in front of them. "Hi," she whispered, a little winded. 

"Hey, Jane," Adam said with an appreciative smile. Carl nodded his head. 

"I was just telling our guests that it'd be better if we stepped into the living room while your dad and Kevin are done with the food," Helen explained. Joan also thought that'd be best, and they all retired to the aforementioned room. As they were sitting down, Kevin came out of the kitchen, being kicked out by his father because he planned to add too much oregano to his special sauce. He wheeled himself to the couch, were his mother and Carl were conversing in low tones. Probably planning the wedding already, he thought. 

He glanced back at Joan and Adam, who were sitting diagonal to them. Adam seemed to be going through continuous phases: he'd watch Joan's face for a few seconds with this really dumbfounded expression; and then he'd look down at his feet, after realizing he'd been staring. Joan, on the other hand, was busy being bored, her eyes traveling around the room every few minutes. The only variation was that sometimes she'd smile at Adam when she realized he was looking at her. Finally, the youngest Rove looked up at him, noticing him for the first time. 

"Uhm, Kevin," he said. Kevin wasn't sure if that was a greeting, or if he was going to say something else, so he prodded him with a light "hmm." Joan peered attentively at their interaction. "Nothing," Adam backed out, looking down yet again. Kevin opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted not two seconds later by Adam looking up again. "I'm sorry, dude. For the throwing you down thing." 

"No problem," Kevin smiled at him, trying to ease the tension somewhat. "I understand. I like throwing stuff around when I'm mad, too." 

"Not funny, Kev," Joan said, resentful of the 'stuff' part. She frowned at him and he stuck his tongue out at her making a face. She laughed and grabbed Adam's hand, standing up. "Come on, Adam, let's see if Dad and Luke are done in there."   
  
  
  
  


Around 6:30, the street was dark enough. The house was locked, but he was sure he could enter. He just had to be resourceful. 

In his desperation, he didn't bother about being careful. He broke the window and went in.   
  
  
  
  


Finally dinner was served, and the whole family plus Adam and his dad sat down, loud conversation and laughs all around. Apparently, Joan had been wrong. Conversation between her parents and Mr. Rove was far from awkward; in fact, it seemed they were old friends already. She thought this was very good: her parents hadn't met any real friends since their moving to Arcadia, and even if Mr. Rove wasn't a "couple" to, uh, "double date" with, it must be refreshing for them to have other adults to discuss things with, especially if they had their kids in common. 

Kevin wasn't sulking at all... he was merrily laughing at Adam's antics like the rest of the "young crowd". Joan had convinced Adam to tell them the story about how Mr. Price took away his musical talents, and by the time he was finished, Kevin looked like he wanted to roll down on the floor. Joan was happy her brother and her best friend could be in good terms even after everything that happened. She knew Kevin wanted her to be happy, and she wanted him to know that she was happy with Adam, and for Kevin to share that happiness with her. So far, it was working. 

Luke wasn't spouting off scientific nonsense either. Actually, it seemed as if he had ants in his pants. He kept squirming in his seat and looking around, seeming really out of character for his usual self. While he wasn't the most down-to-earth person (his constant speeches about the possibility of extraterrestrial life and discoveries on Martian ground taken as proof), he wasn't normally this restless. Obviously he wanted to ask Adam about the Grace thing, Joan thought, but he wasn't about to do so in front of his whole family. But he just couldn't wait. Yeah, that was it. 

Her father wasn't interrogating Adam, too. At least not yet. He HAD thrown them a few looks, mostly at her (the classic "my baby girl has become a woman" look), but he had kept quiet about it. She guessed he knew that if Adam and her hadn't figured out just what the thing going on between them was, he shouldn't intervene. Joan felt a little queasy, for having thought that way about her dad. She knew he was a very understanding person and he had never done such a thing before. She knew he liked Adam, though he'd never actually told her so, and that was the most important thing to her. Didn't stop Adam from feeling nervous, still. 

"Well," Helen started, clasping her hands together. "Since this is a Thanksgiving dinner, I guess we should start thanking the Lord before we go and eat. Hold hands, please." They all complied. She looked around the table. "Any volunteers?" 

"I'll start," said Will, sitting at the head of the table. He had never been very religious, really, but his parents had instilled the culture in him when he was a kid, and he wanted to do so, if only to make his wife and their family happy. "Dear Lord," he started, closing his eyes. "I want to thank you, first of all for my wonderful family. We've gone through a lot of hardships lately but we've been able to stay together. I want to thank you for my wife, because I don't think I could ever have found a better partner for life." He looked at Helen and she smiled at him. "I want to thank you because my eldest son is back on track for his life, even if he sometimes doesn't feel like it." Kevin smirked, not sure if he was complimenting him or just nagging. "Thank you because my youngest son grows not only in mind, but also in heart lately." Luke uttered a 'heh' and looked down at his plate. "Thank you because my only daughter becomes a beautiful woman inside and outside with each passing day," he continued, glancing at Joan, who looked like she was about to cry. "And because she has great friends who support her even if she doesn't make much sense sometimes," with this he looked at Adam, smiling, and the boy smiled back at him, albeit a little confused. Joan rolled her eyes. "Also, thank you for letting me have a job that I love, and for letting me able to help out the world as much as I can." 

When he was finished, Helen, who was sitting at Will's right, looked around at all the flustered faces that surrounded her. "Keep the blush up, because mine is very similar," she laughed, and started her own prayer. "Father, thank you for giving me, and all of us, life, and health and love to keep us going. Thank you because you've kept Will safe, and now he can be happy and not stressed in his work again. Thank you because my children have all learned to look beyond where they are and into the world: Kevin, beyond his wheelchair; Luke, beyond his textbooks; and Joan, beyond appearances and misunderstandings. They've all made me very proud. Thank you because, even if our life isn't perfect..." Here, her voice started shaking. On the other side of the table, tears had already begun spilling down Joan's cheeks. "...Even if it isn't, you've given us strength to deal with our problems and make it through. And I..." She took a deep breath and tried to steady her tone. "I don't really know what else to say. Just thank you, for everything." 

"Besides all that you've already said," Kevin spoke up, sitting opposite to his father, after a few seconds of silence, "I want to add that I'm thankful for being here in Arcadia," he said, not sure if he should go into the sentimental stuff like his parents had. "It might not be the most exciting town in the world, but it's given us many new opportunities. I think we've all matured somehow, and maybe this fresh air was what we needed." 

"I don't have many things to say," Mr. Rove, on Will's left, started right after Kevin. "I'm not as... good with words as you all seem to be. I just thank God for life, for having Adam with me, happy and looking forward to the future, and for having had Elizabeth beside me for as long as I did. She was the most wonderful woman." He gulped a little. Adam frowned a bit, but he felt lighter, somehow. 

There was silence for about a minute. Luke, who was on Kevin's left, had to be prodded on so he'd speak. "Um, God, thanks for creating us. Thanks for all the knowledge and complexity you show us. Thank you because I learn new things about the world... and about people everyday." He looked at the other occupants of the table to see if anyone had caught on to what that 'about people' meant. They all seemed focused on the prayer instead of on his expression. "Thanks for my mom, my dad and my siblings, whom I have to love even if we're all a little weird. And... I guess that's it." 

"You could be more imaginative than that," Joan commented. 

"You know his inspiration only works on Calculus," joked Kevin. 

Seeing that Luke was finished, Helen told Joan, who was sitting on an extra chair on Kevin's right side, that it was her turn. She was still a little weepy. "Hey. I'm sure you're around here somewhere, so I'll just say a few things," she started, feeling a little foolish. After talking to God directly for so long, going back to doing it indirectly was weird. "Thanks for putting me on earth, even if I sometimes don't understand why. Thanks, because my Daddy is the best man I've ever known." Will looked at her proudly, but she didn't see it because she never opened her eyes. "And thanks, because my Mom is so understanding and always helps me even if I'm reluctant to go to her." Helen laughed, remembering their conversation. "Thanks for my brothers. Thanks for giving Kevin a second chance. I know I promised you a lot of things that day that I haven't done yet, but you aren't that strict with payment so I'll just do my best at everything to thank you for that. Whatever. You know what I mean." The whole Girardi family chuckled, knowing that Joan was just weird like that. "Thanks because I've found more than a nerd in Luke. He's helped me a lot, and I mean more than with math." Luke shrugged, deciding that if it was a compliment, it sure needed a little help with the delivery. "Thanks because I met Grace and Adam... intervention or not, it was because of you." No one understood that particular comment, but no one said anything either. "And thanks because I finally have redemption. Now I know that even if my intention is good, I have to think things through before actually doing them." She opened her eyes and looked at Adam, who was sitting to her right, smiling. He nodded back at her. "Oh, and thanks for being a nicer boss to me these last few days. It didn't go unnoticed." Now everybody wondered, curiously, just what she was talking about. "What?" she asked, feeling a little defensive. She looked up at the ceiling. "And if I'm forgetting something, I'll tell you when we're alone." 

"Well, that was... interesting," Helen commented, and turned to the last person to speak. "Adam?" 

"Uh, yeah," he began, with uncertainty. "God. Cha. Thanks for giving me life. Thanks for my dad, who's the best I've got. He wants me to be good; he wants me to have a future. I don't know if I will, but his support gets my hopes up." Carl patted his son's back. "Thanks for... my mother, and all the nice times we spent together. I miss her a lot, but I know she's doing great up there. Thanks for everybody I know, good or bad. Yes, even Mr. Price." The ones who knew the man laughed. "Thanks for my art, you know, 'cause I know that comes from you. Thanks for bringing Jane back to me," he said, looking at Joan. She bit her lip, teary-eyed still, and held his hand more tightly. "And thanks for this dinner, I guess. Oh, and say hi to my mom for me." 

Helen wiped her eyes too, letting go of Will and Luke's hands. "Well, that's it, then. Let's eat." 

Not five minutes after they served, the doorbell rang. Helen told Joan to check who it was, and excusing herself, Joan did. Opening the door, she frowned. There was no one there. Nothing, except a folded newspaper lying on the floor. There was no reason for the thing to be there at that hour of the night. And all the weird things in Joan's life were usually related to one person. 

She opened the paper. It was the Arcadia Herald. Nothing strange with that, but its date was. It seemed that was next day's edition. Normally she'd find the situation tv-drama-like freaky, but she'd seen worse things. At least now she knew it had to be God's work. 

"First TV, then radio, and now... Wow. What's next, the 'net?" she wondered aloud, as she skimmed through the front page. The cover story was something about a teenage drug dealer being caught that night. She didn't pay much attention to it. Instead, she focused on the bold letters written inside a little gray, red-bordered square that was on the top right hand corner of the front page.   


**Inside:******

**Iraq topic still hot, 2A.**   
**Eagles prepare for tournament, 6A.**   
**Coming closer, 14B.**   


She immediately looked for page 14B. It was the opinion section. There were various articles scattered throughout it and none was titled "Coming Closer," but she was sure she was supposed to be studying the one that was right in the middle, surrounded by a thin black border. She read it carefully.   


_So many goals to achieve in this life_   
_By Normand Theriault_

_I'm assuming most of us have a master plan. A master plan consists of a series of goals or accomplishments we'd like to achieve within a certain amount of time.___

_The frame of time we allot to complete the entire plan is almost always our entire life, though most of us would probably have No. 9 (winning the lottery) or No. 10 (hitting the jackpot) come sooner rather than later.___

_I know that I've always had a master plan ... at least, I thought I did until about a week ago.___

_Over the past [few] years I've been drifting. My goals are changing constantly, and my attempts to move forward are mired in the sad reality of "I don't know where to start."___

_You see, it occurred to me this week that maybe I don't really have a single plan, but many plans that are all fighting for dominance. The fact that any major I choose will not stay put is evidence enough to confirm my suspicions.___

_I want to write poetry and novels, learn languages both speaking and programming, explore the philosophy of experience, delve into the intricacies of religion and get lost in the fascinating world of scientific inquiry.___

_I want to read everything (no matter how obscure, difficult or seemingly irrelevant), define myself in a world obsessed with popular culture and drink from the fountain of creative genius.___

_I know how I must sound to all of you who "know what you want" and are on the track to success. I must be romantically involved with the world. Or something that symbolizes the totality of existence, whatever that might be.___

_The problem with my interests, if indeed it is a problem, is they have no discernible end. Everyone out there who thinks they know what they want has probably never considered what happens after they finally have everything they want.___

_I can never have what I want ... and I know it, and that is why I am striving for it.___

_So what is it that I want? Good question. Besides wanting to know everything (which really isn't what I want -- there are some things I could care less about [...]), I would like to be able to understand myself and the world.___

_Simple, you say? Hardly. A person and the world are in a constant state of flux. Understanding yourself may be possible, but only for a second in any given lifetime. Once that second has passed, you change and your perception changes with you.___

_The world is the same way. You can focus on the world and you might be able to grasp it in all its complexity, but then either it continues moving or you become distracted and clarity is lost.___

_I strive for moments of understanding. I strive for moments of clarity within the darkness. And in the meantime, I learn all that I can and reflect on experience so that I can express how wonderful and complete it feels to be in that state.___

_[...]___

_Even though my time is ultimately spent in pursuit of this never-reached goal on a non-existent master plan, I am not rejecting all of those goals that can be reached. It is only through small steps that you can reach for those loftier goals.___

_What fills my life are the deeds, pleasures, pains, accomplishments, upsets, ends and means of an existence that can only be described as finite ... seen through the lens of infinite understanding in hopes of coming closer to peace, happiness and completion._   


Joan looked outside, to see if she saw one of God's many faces somewhere. No such luck. She was confused. Unsure if this was supposed to be about him or about her. The latter was more probable, she guessed, because God was "beyond her understanding" and he wouldn't try to explain himself to her. Could he even feel that way? Maybe he was reinforcing the idea that we were always coming closer to something. Goals, the article said. He'd told her one could be closer to all kinds of things, and that's what made us human. Maybe he thought he'd have the concept clearer after the family dinner. 

And actually, she did. 

Smiling, she folded the paper and took it up to her room, so nobody could see it until tomorrow. Then she came down to spend some more time with the people she loved.   
  
  
  
  


Yes! He had it! It had taken him a long time to search all over the house, but he'd found it. It seemed intact. And he was sure that even if Mr. Rove had found a way to peer inside and had told anybody, everyone would blame his son. Adam Rove had the reputation since day one. 

Putting the briefcase under his arm, he broke into a run, not caring what he trampled in the way out. When he reached the window, he let out a laugh. Throwing the briefcase out, he followed immediately after. Now he only had to sneak it into his bedroom at his house. After more than a week, he was free to feel the exhilaration coursing through his veins again. He didn't have to suffer anymore. He didn't have to care about living in a world where nobody cared about him. He could just live for it, and be happy once again. Just a few more minutes... 

His happiness was cut off when he heard the distinct click of a semi-automatic gun being held near him. He turned around to find himself face to face with a man who seemed to be a police officer. 

"Freeze. You're under arrest for trespassing on private property," the man told him. 

He tried to run, but his shaky legs didn't work quite as well as he wanted them to.   
  
  
  
  


Back at the Girardi's, the "party" was winding down. The parents had retreated to the living room to continue conversing about various things, while the eldest and the youngest played a card game on the now clean dining table. Joan and Adam, on the other hand, had decided to head outside. 

The night was almost unnaturally dark, and a little cold, but for them it was perfect. At the beginning they just sat down at the porch, silent, trying to say what they had wanted to be say when they decided to go out. Yet, the environment was so quiet. It seemed almost like a crime, disrupting the stillness. Talking could wait. They were content just to sit there beside each other. Until the sound of leaves rustling startled them. 

"Good evening, brother and sister," the person said. It was a woman. Tall, thin. Black, around her high-twenties. She was warm enough with winter clothes and a thick coat. Her hair was all done in braids. She walked up to them with a smile on her face, hands in her coat pockets. "I've come bearing the good news of our celestial father." 

"At this hour?" Adam asked, looking at the sky. It had to be after 10 pm. What sane person would go out and preach under these conditions?" 

"The Lord does not worry about time," the woman said, looking pointedly at Joan. "It is most important that all of his children unite and wait for his return in peace and fraternity, no matter what time of the day it is." With this, Joan seemed to get the hint. 

"I'll talk to her, Adam. Maybe if we humor her she'll go away," she told him. He wasn't so sure about letting her be with a complete stranger like that, so he stayed where he was, making sure nothing happened to her while she walked a few steps away with the woman. "'The good news of our celestial father', eh? Isn't that a bit egotistical of you?" she asked Preacher!God, hugging her rather thin coat to herself in order to gain warmth. 

"Well, considering the environment you're in, it was that or 'gimme ya wallet or i kill ya, girlie', but I don't think you would have appreciated that." 

Joan rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So, I have to come closer to as much as I can. To everyone, to any goal. Reach for perfection, even if I'll never get it. Never back down! Is that what you were trying to teach me?" 

"I wasn't trying to teach you anything," God replied, her tone amused. "I just wanted you to have a good time for a change. That's your problem, Joan. You always think everything is about you." With a smile and the wave, she turned to keep on walking. 

"Hey!" Joan stopped, and ran towards her again. With a side-glance, she saw Adam stretch his neck to keep her in his peripheral vision. She caught up to God again, and smiled. "I forgot to tell you something earlier. Thank you for tonight. It's been great." 

God smiled down at her, her expression that of a proud mother. "The night isn't over yet," she whispered, with a significant look at the young man who was waiting for Joan at the porch. And then she left, this time for good. 

Joan stepped back with a sigh and walked back to Adam. Just as he was about to ask her what that was all about, the door opened and Will came striding out. 

"Dad? Where are you going?" Joan asked, as he was opening the car's door. 

"Seems like Carlisle accidentally caught the drug dealer we were looking for. Williams just called me," he explained. "I'll probably see you tomorrow, ok?" 

Joan nodded, a little disappointed, but such was the life of the daughter of a detective. As the car sped off down the street, Joan walked back and sat beside Adam again. 

"Police action," Adam muttered, sounding impressed. "Neat, yo." 

"Unchallenged," Joan replied, snorting. "So much for family unity, huh?" 

There was silence again, but this time it was uncomfortable. Both of them wanted to break it now, but neither knew what to say exactly. "So..." Adam tried, and it gave Joan strength to continue the thought. 

"Uh... Look, Adam," she began, her voice shaky. "I know I told you that we weren't ready last week. I just... I mean, it's not that I want us to be simply friends. To go back to the way we were before-- before all that stuff happened. It's not that," she assured him, trying to look into his eyes. He didn't look down, like he usually did when avoiding her. This time, he just looked a few degrees away. She grabbed his hands, sort of forcing him to look at her. "It's just that... what we have is different. You know that, right? And I don't want to ruin it by plunging into something that might completely ruin it. I'm not sure, but inside me I feel that we need to mature some more. I need to mature. I'm just not ready to be someone's... 'official' yet." 

"You're not ready to be with someone or you just don't want to be with me?" he asked, his voice husky from the cold. He had that look in his face, the one that she hated so much-- he was assuming he knew what she was thinking, when really he couldn't be more wrong. 

"No! No, don't think that. Listen to me," she tried to be more energetic, putting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Don't ever think that I don't care for you. I do. I really feel something, ok? You not speaking to me made me realize that very painfully. You get me?" 

"Then why do we keep going back and forth, Joan?" he questioned, getting more frustrated by the minute. He knew he'd told her he could wait, but it wasn't an easy task, let me tell you. 

"That's it: we're just going forth," she explained, back to the hand gestures. "We'll be coming closer to each other. I want to be closer to you. I do. Just without the title. Without the pressure. Nobody will expect anything from us. We'll just be Adam and... Jane," she finished with a giggle. "Please tell me you understand me..." 

"I think I do," he nodded, frowning still. Why did things had to get so complicated?, he thought. "So, how do you define it-- we're not going out but we wish we were?" 

"Sort of," Joan replied, feeling a little silly. "It's not going to be like that forever, you know. If we're meant to be, something will happen sooner or later." 

"And it's going to be even better than now?" he finished her line of thought, admittedly feeling a little better. She nodded. "Does that mean you're still going to hang out with those guys you tell us nothing about?" he asked her, his expression turning a little sour. 

Joan laughed. "I probably will," she answered him. "But believe me, it's not by choice." 

Adam shrugged. "That's good." He leaned against the wall, and closing his eyes. Joan looked at him with a smile. He looked so cute like that, curls of his dark hair falling over his forehead. "Say," he started again, without changing his position. "What if we start this whole 'coming closer' thing tomorrow?" He opened his eyes and turned his head to direct a deep gaze towards her. "Because now I just... I really want to kiss you, Jane. Can I?" 

She felt her heart start pounding furiously and her eyes fill with tears yet again. How could she say no to that? "Please," she whispered, still smiling at him. 

He returned her smile and leaned in, and when their lips touched, Joan knew that they had a long way to go down the road to perfection, but they were going to be ok.   
  
  
  
  


The next Monday at school, Joan and Luke were just meeting up with Grace when Adam ran up to them. "Yo! Guys, listen to this. It's neat. Your father captured a drug dealer down at my house!" 

"He told us he had captured one, he just didn't go into too much detail," Luke replied, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

"At your house?" Joan exclaimed, not believing it. Adam then proceeded to tell them everything, up to every single thing Brooks had broken inside his house. Photographic memory and all that. "Waitasec, Greg Brooks?" Joan wondered aloud. "Isn't that the guy who pushed us on Friday? Grace, you know him, right?" 

"That's the guy you were talking to on Friday!" Luke exclaimed, remembering. 

Grace looked at him, incredulous. "What, you're spying on me now?! Why don't you just officially stalk me and get it over with?!" She was very mad, everybody could see that. 

"No, I just happened to overhear you talki-- By Einstein, you've done drugs?!" he exclaimed back, putting two and two together. 

"What?!" Joan exclaimed too. Adam just wondered what on Earth they were talking about. 

"Look, it was just once," Grace growled back at them. "I hated it. And you know I'm not the one you look to when it comes to peer pressure." 

"Did you know he was selling?" Joan asked, not knowing what else to say. 

"Of course not. Who do you take me for?" Grace replied, and throwing her hands into the air, she started walking faster. "Just forget about it!" 

The other three looked at each other. Well, that was a revelation, for sure. As long as she'd stopped doing that, it was ok, they guessed. It was not like that sole fact made her a different person. She was still the same Grace who hated the world and was going to ignore them all for the rest of the day. Only now she seemed more experienced somehow. 

Whatever. 

They just went on to their classes, celebrating that they were on time for once. 

On her way to her locker, Joan started thinking about the whole arrest issue. If Adam had been at his house that night, none of that stuff would've happened. And then Brooks would still be dealing drugs. Could it be that...? 

She decided not to think about it. She'd done what was requested of her: she'd had a great time at the Thanksgiving dinner. Better not to think any deeper about it. 

The hallway gradually became emptier as people started going into their classrooms, until there was only one boy standing there. He was good-looking, not too tall, with brown hair and a tan coat. He stood there with his hands in his coat pockets. 

"Yes, Joan, that's it. If you hadn't talked to your mother, she wouldn't have invited Adam and his father to the Monthly Thanksgiving dinner, and they would've been home that night. Even worse than that: Carl wouldn't have taken the day shift that day, and Greg would've never let him find his drugs and take them to his house. Greg would've taken them to his own house directly, where he would've spent the night consuming them, to be eventually found dead by his maid the next morning. Dead by overdose. His parents would have come home from Japan as fast as they could, to face depression caused by the death of their only son. His mother would've stopped eating sooner or later, and would have died eventually. His father would take refugee in alcohol after both tragedies, until one day, while driving under the influence, he would collide with a bus and die instantly. I told you, some people are coming closer to breakdown every second... Gregory was one of them. Such an awful tragedy caused by such a dumb problem. And it was your coming closer that stopped that from happening." 

Without another word, he turned around and left through the main doors.   
  
  
  
  


---   
  
  
  
  


disclaimer-- 

joan of arcadia, its ideas, names, situations and all related stuff is property of barbara hall and cbs… and someone else, i think, but I can't remember right now. I'm not making any money out of this fanfic, it's just for fun. please don't sue. 

  
author's notes-- 

for some reason, my author's notes usually have very little to do with the fic itself, and they're always waaaaay too long. This time i'll try to do something about that, but i can't promise anything. 

this fanfic is supposed to fit snugly between episode 13 ("recreation") and episode 14 ("state of grace"). but since "state of grace" hasn't been aired yet, and i haven't seen "recreation" yet, there might be some things out of place. i've only seen up to... "st. joan", if i'm not mistaken. i think sony will air "drive, he said" tomorrow night, so it'll be a happy day for me ^_^ so if there's something non-canon here, i'll probably revise it later. 

also, if there are grammar or spelling mistakes, i am so sorry! ^^;;;; my english is good, but it's not my primary language and i might screw up somewhere. this hasn't been beta-ed, so it's possible i'm screwing up in a lot of places. please try to ignore any weird stuff. 

my apologies for such a lame plot. i personally don't like it (then again, i hardly like anything i write ~_~ i'm just weird like that), but i don't usually watch police movies or read detective books, so i'm not so imaginative in the area. actually i just liked the idea of joan thinking god was doing something just to make her happy for once, even if there was a deeper reason in the end. she deserves that after all she's been through. the greg brooks plot was pure improvisation. 

the article i used up there, the one joan read in the newspaper, is actually a real article. if you want, you can check it out here: 

www . stp . uh . edu / vol65 / 46 / opinion / oped3 . html 

just erase the spaces. sorry, ff.net is a pain in the behind when it comes to urls, at least for me. no part of the article was changed, except a few words that are between brackets []. i take no credit for it. 

about grace-- she's a rebel. she tried it, she assumed it, she knew it was wrong, so she forgot about it. about kevin-- sorry there's so little about him here, i just didn't find much room for him to grow without just repeating everything that's already happened in the series. 

by the way, writing god is FUN! XD sorry, i had to say that. 

this is my first (and will probably be the last, at least until i watch all the episodes... i don't like writing things with an incomplete canon) joan of arcadia fanfic, so please, PLEASE review it. i REALLY need your imput, even if you didn't like it. just don't be rude and i'll be ok, i can take it ^.^ 

and lastly, on a very random note, i want to dedicate this fanfic to annoyingbrat!god, who has taken residence in my mind (as if i didn't have enough with my annoying little brother) ever since his one scene. geez. also, to all the joa fanfic authors and video-makers, because, even if i haven't commented on anything, i loved all of your works. and lastly, to my dearest zinedine zidane, just because he's the best soccer player ever and i love him ^^ real madrid beat valencia 2 goals against one today, with mon amour zinedine scoring the winning goal, and it completely made my day ^____________^ you can thank him for giving me enough inspiration to finish this today.   


soundtrack-- 

i sometimes like to give my readers a list of songs i've listened to while i wrote this chapter, more as a thank you to the authors and performers for their inspiration than because they've really got anything to do with the plot. i'm sure you'll be able to tell that they're pretty random. just music i like to listen to, in no way related to the story. they just seem to get me writing ^^ this particular list is pretty weird... most of the songs are so mushy, sappy and incredibly teenybopper-ish that i think i scared myself. how embarrassing to admit that i listened to them =@_@= but i owe them for this fanfic. my friends wouldn't recognize me if they knew i was listening to this stuff... some of them are in spanish (that's my first language), so if you've never heard about them, that's normal ^^;;;; 

- "time" by chantal kreviazuk. works great with the mother-daughter conversation scene. blame it on the last scene of "recreation" (episode which i haven't actually seen yet, but the 'net has me obsessed with it already), and zia's wonderful video for the song, which you can find in fanforum.com's JoA section (fanforum.com> forums> television> JoA> JoA music videos #1> page 6, since ff.net won't let me put the URL here...). 

- "my primer dia sin ti" by los enanitos verdes. wonderful song, oh, i love it so much. i used it to get into 'adam' mood. the same goes for "starlight" by zed. 

- "a moment like this", sung by kelly clarkson. um... not sure where i used it. it just popped in from time to time. same happened with "invencible" by libido. 

- "i need love" by laura pausini, my eternal favorite female singer (she rocks!). used to get into 'joan' mood, for some weird reason. also "perfect day" by hoku. 

- "my world" by avril lavigne. lol. for annoyingbrat!god scene. 

- "rainmaker" by matchbox 20. hehe, i love this song. used for most god scenes, because he's cool like that... 

- "to get me to you" by lila mccann. for all the joan/adam bits there were. blame southpaw's awesome video (again, you can find it in fanforum.com's JoA section, same thread, this time on page 7). i swear it's become my new favorite song. also "open your eyes (to love)" by lmnt, and "more than a friend" by michael learns to rock (mltr). 

- "4 am" by our lady peace, for all 'police scenes' and greg brooks. also for the latter, "numb" by linkin park. 

- "no le dijo nada" by los ladrones sueltos, for grace. the song has nothing in common with her, really, but it's funny and it reminds me of her attitude somehow. 

- "thank you" by alanis morissette, for the whole Thanksgiving dinner idea and all of its scenes. 

would make one hell of a cd, wouldn't it? *groans* 

that's all! please review! -carla. 


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